honestly just a bunch of Jerza drabbles
by thir13enth
Summary: a dump of Jerza. mostly fluff.
1. the mission

**psa:** This is literally just going to be a Jerza drabble dump. Mostly fluffy. (Yes, I know I have a dump of one-shots **sugar sweet** but I'm reserving that one for longer pieces while this compilation is Jerza of more or less under 1K and mostly requests?) I don't know. Call it **one minute fluff**.

But anyway, on with the show. With much love, thir13enth.

* * *

 **tumblr anon asks for:** prompt 24 ("You're the only one I trust to do this") + Jerza

...

 **notes:** Of course, dear anon. This is **Jerza**. Of fucking _**course**_ , I'll do this one.

* * *

"You're the only one I trust to do this."

He looks up at her.

She's crouched and hunched over, her back strained in the most contorted way he's ever witnessed on her graceful figure. There's sweat caked over her dusted face, and her hands are littered with cuts. She's thrown her blade to the side, focusing completely on the job at hand. She returns a determined gaze to him, one mixed with hesitant anticipation yet full confidence in him.

Her fingers tremble as she hands him the red jewel, and he carefully receives it from her.

This ruby represents everything she has worked for since the sun rose, and he knows that this is the one moment that will define her victorious or set back, the challenge too great.

But there is no challenge too great for Erza, and Jellal is determined to prove it.

"Of course, Erza," he assures her. "I won't let you down."

And he hovers it over the center of the white expanse before them.

It is a difficult task—to drop it exactly in the perfect place. But an even more difficult task is holding back the chuckle that is tickling at the base of his throat.

Eventually he snorts.

"Did you just _snort_?" she glances up at him, looking betrayed and ultra-offended.

"I'm sorry, Erza," he apologizes with a guffaw, and then laughs whole-heartedly.

"This is the most important mission of my life!" she reminds him angrily. Her cheeks are flushed red like her frazzled hair after a long day.

He quiets his amusement. "Yes, yes, I know, love. I'm sorry."

And he places the strawberry at the most perfect spot on the vanilla-frosted shortcake, finishing the dessert. She sighs with relief and he smiles, glad to have met her expectations. He takes the kitchen knife that she's set aside on the counter and hands it back to her, handle first.

"Can I trust you to cut this cake without hurting yourself?" he asks, nodding at her strawberry juice-stained hands and the small accidental slices on her fingers from previous fruit-and-knife mishandling.

She pouts. "Of course, I can," she insists, taking the utensil from him and holding the edge at the radius of the strawberry shortcake.

She slices, and she sighs pleasantly, knowing that everything in the world is right: her day, her Jellal, and her cake.

He sighs in relief at the lack of injuries, and then he wraps his arms around her waist, presses his chest against her back, and kisses the shell of her ear. "Happy birthday, Erza."

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	2. wanna bet

**tumblr anon asks for:** prompt 18 ("Wanna bet?") + Jerza

* * *

 **notes:** Dear anon, originally I only did #24 for you, but I suddenly was struck with an idea and decided to do this one as well. I hope you don't mind. ;) Sorry again, that this is late. But now I'm back and full force, catching up with requests.

* * *

"Wanna bet?"

And as classical physics dictated, everything that day went completely wrong.

Sure, he had prepared for the snow, but he didn't expect the rain when nature decided to give him a fuck you to his plans and make the fresh three inches of white soft snow turn into three inches of frozen slippery slush.

Sure, he had taken care to hold on tight to her hand while she skipped on ahead of him, but he didn't expect her to slip when friction gave up and let her fall straight to the wet and cold ground, making for a very sore butt.

Sure, he had brought an extra pair of gloves because he knew that Erza would have probably forgotten to tuck them into her jacket pockets just in case she got colder than she liked to admit the weather made her, but he didn't expect the splash of gutter water that gravity rained down on her when a speeding car whizzed past them.

Sure, he did his best to try to make the day perfect, but he had learned a long time ago that it was the imperfections in life that made all the other moments so much better.

So he sat her down for dinner, and glumly she sat in the booth seat across from him, putting the dripping umbrella down onto the floor next to her soaked legs—the aftermath of a torrent of street water and a bad fall on the sidewalk a few blocks earlier. She pulled off her coat and unwrapped her neck from her damp scarf and sighed, adjusting her seat to make herself comfortable.

"You okay?" he asked her, looking up to meet her eyes.

"No," she replied, with a stiff pout, and then reached for the menu before letting out a yelp after a static shock zapped her hand. "Definitely not," she revised, waving her electrocuted fingers around.

He studied the features of her face carefully for her real feelings behind her terse words. She was complaining, yes—but she was far less capricious than the weather.

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a gentle smile. "We just need to eat, walk back home, and then we can hop into a nice warm shower before we can cuddle to sleep, okay?"

Her eyes smiled at this reminder but her lips remained in an exaggerated frown. "My socks are all wet. That's the worst feeling ever."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said again. "But I wanted to take you out tonight."

She huffed. "Today's the worst day ever."

He reached over the table to cradle her hands within both of his, thumbing the smooth skin of the backs of her fingers. "Well, at least you'll remember it then."

"I'm not going to remember a terrible day like this when we've had so many better dates," she quickly retorted, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, you will," he argued, teasingly. "This is our fourth anniversary, after all."

"Four is a cursed number anyway," she remarked.

"You can't possibly forget such a terrible day."

"Wanna bet?" she challenged.

He smiled, his left thumb tracing the bare skin of her right ring finger and thinking of the small square box in his pocket.

"Yeah."

* * *

 **notes:** I'm feeling ultra fluff these days. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I got to see my partner again after 6 months...just maybe... ;)

 **thir13enth**


	3. opportunistic

**tumblr anon asks for:** prompt 38 ("It's not what it looks like…") + Jerza

* * *

 **notes** : Also whoops, this turned lightly NSFW. With warnings, my friends.

* * *

He swings the door to the bedroom open and he definitely doesn't expect to find what he sees.

Erza is lying seductively on the bed. She is naked, save the lingerie that she has on.

It's a new set of lingerie. Lacy white is a color he hasn't seen on her yet.

He's definitely sure of that.

What he's not sure of is what to make of her—in bed, in lingerie, in seduction—practically encouraging him to take her right then and there.

She gasps, immediately sitting up and pulling the covers as best as she can over her body.

"Y-you're early!"

He blinks a few times. "Sorry," he apologizes, and then he tries his best to look away while he comes into the room and starts to get undressed from his work clothes.

He makes sure to close the door behind him.

"I swear," she adds. "It's not what it looks like!"

"Like what?" he asks, turning his back to her and facing the closet. A small smile has perched on his lips. He watches her flushed face in the reflection of the mirror in front of him.

Her face grows more red. "I was just trying it on!"

"Well, then you have uncanny timing," he replies, pulling off the button shirt and tossing it into the laundry in the corner of the room. Before he pulls off his undershirt, he approaches his partner and kisses her lightly on the forehead. "I like that on you."

"Thank you," she says quietly, but then raises her voice again. "But really! I wasn't just doing all this because…you know…" She fades off, but then starts again. "I thought you were going to be back later!"

He laughs. "Whatever the truth, I'm not one to turn down opportunities," he purrs. He lifts her chin up to face him and his lips hover over her lips. His eyes flicker from her mouth to her eyes, and he locks his gaze on her and whispers, "So can I have this one?"

Her voice catches in her throat. "Y-yes," she gulps.

"Fantastic," he breathes and then envelops her mouth with his lips.

"Mmm." She responds with full force, settling her hands on either sides of his hips and coaxing his body into bed. She slips a hand, two beneath his shirt, running her fingertips up and down his warm smooth skin. She rests her right palm just over his belt buckle, and then she questioningly hums when feeling the hard swell just under her fingers.

"What's this, Jellal?" she asks him, with a teasing smile. She looks down for a moment before catching his eyes again.

"Well," he replies, turning her previous remark on her. "It's _exactly_ what it looks like."

* * *

 **notes:** ;) Thank you so so so much for the reviews everyone! I really appreciate them and they keep me writing!

 **thir13enth**


	4. of scarlet things

**notes** : Still trying to update from my tumblr backlog! I keep forgetting to transfer it, but I hate to do it all at once to not spam you, ahahah.

* * *

 **of scarlet things**

After a long morning full of classes, she finds him sitting in the shady corner where they always eat their lunch. It's a spot they've chosen after moving from place to place throughout their four years of high school, and regrettably they have only about three months before graduation to fully enjoy their space and privacy.

"Jellal," she whines, pulling off her backpack from her tired back and dropping it onto the grass off to the side. She immediately nestles within his arms and wraps her body around him. "I'm so tired."

"How come you don't act this way around other people?" he asks her teasingly.

She rolls over in his lap. "Because I'm the class president. No one can know that I'm really just a sack of potatoes." She tilts her head up at him. "Consider yourself special for seeing me like this."

He brings his head down and kisses her. "Then you consider yourself special for getting to be kissed like that."

"Yes," she agrees, murmuring between their lips.

She reaches up for his jaw and pulls him back down for a brief extra kiss, before she readjusts comfortably between his thighs, leaning back against his chest. She feels him shift his weight before he embraces her waist, tucking his nose into her hair. She hears him take a deep breath, and she smiles to herself, knowing that he is enjoying his time within her soft tresses.

"It was scarlet, you know," he muses suddenly.

She knows exactly what he's talking about. He's mentioned it a million times before, but she wants to hear it from him again.

She waits a moment. "What was?" she asks.

"What brought me to you," he answers. "The color of your hair."

She finds herself playing with a strand of it herself. She stops and turns to face him, rotating her body.

"You sure it wasn't the Hot Cheetos?" she accuses. "I know you were so obsessed with those when you were in fourth grade."

He considers. "Huh. Arguably that's scarlet, too," he admits.

"Wait until I tell our kids that we began dating because you were craving Hot Cheetos and asked me for some," she jokes, poking him adoringly in the forehead.

He gives her an amused look. "We're having kids?"

When she catches her slip, her eyes widen and her face turns hot.

"And arguably, _you're_ turning scarlet, too," he says, returning a poke to her cheek.

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	5. serving size

**notes** : Ugh. Seriously hating how I can't keep a consistent format in this drabble set. How frustrating. Rawr. I know these drabbles are from all over the place but like whyyyy can't I figure out how I want to formatttttt. whyyyyy. (#personal)

* * *

 **serving size  
** _Jellal almost forgets to make an extra plate of dinner._

* * *

It's been a while since Jellal has caught up with Meredy, so he sits his son on the couch and picks up right away when he sees his sister's name appear on the caller ID of his cellphone.

"Hey, _Brother_ ," she greets snootily. "I know you're still bitter about me not being able to fly down for your anniversary party thing while I'm in the middle of my semester to go visit you, but why have you been avoiding all my texts and calls lately? Too busy putting away all the gifts?"

He laughs. "Yep, we haven't even gotten a chance to check out the new car that Mom and Dad gave us."

"What?!" she wails excitedly. "They got you two a new _car?!_ "

"I'm just kidding, Meredy," he assures her. "I'm sure they'd never spoil me more than they do for you."

"Shut _up_ , Jellal," she scoffs.

"Nothing much is really happening," he continues. "You know we moved into a new house about a month ago, right?"

"Yeah—I mean, Erza's Instagram game is strong. Even if you didn't pick up today, I'm pretty sure I would have gotten to catch a photo of whatever you two had for dinner."

"She does enjoy the filters a lot," he agrees. "Other than that, we're still trying to get settled in. It's hard to work around our schedules, you know, with Erza in the clinic and me working out the finances."

He looks back down at his son, who is flailing his arms up at him, demanding to be carried. He sighs softly, before bending down to lift the child up in his right arm. He holds his cellphone between his shoulder and ear for a moment before transferring it to the other hand.

"I see," Meredy replies. "Well. I thought I also should let you know that I started dating someone."

Jellal wrinkles his nose, but eventually shrugs it off and approves of Meredy's new relationship status. "Sounds good."

He walks into the kitchen and places some water to boil.

"His name's Lyon. He's a senior. And he's a darling, I swear," Meredy assures him. "He's an ass most of the time, but I have him under control."

"Alright," he says, approving after a short pause. He thinks to do a quick Facebook stalk of the guy later. "As long as you don't do stupid shit."

"I promise," she tells him.

"Sounds good," he replies, reaching up for a box of pasta. He looks over his shoulder at his other disgruntled toddler—who's coloring in the corner of the living room—before turning back to the conversation. "Well, I hate to cut us off short, Meredy, but I should probably get going. I have two mouths to feed. I think they want spaghetti today."

Then he hears the clatter of tired feet in heels and the whump of Erza's body onto the sofa—returning after a long day in the hospital.

He smiles, laughing to himself. "Actually, make that three."

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	6. next time

**notes** : as always. still slacking. (i should be working on jerza week 2016)

* * *

 **next time  
** _Jellal isn't very helpful when it comes to picking dresses._

* * *

Erza's been selecting _just_ the right Heart Kreuz dress for ages already. Despite many closet swaps and exchanges, and no matter how much Jellal insists that the one that she is wearing is _perfectly fine,_ Erza continues to move onto the next wardrobe, determined there can always be one even better.

He tries to be as helpful as possible, but Erza doesn't think that his overwhelmingly positive reviews of every single fabric and color and style that she is wearing is doing her any good.

She wants to look as best as possible for their very serious first date night out. It will be the first time she'll ever dress up in anything else but armor and the first time he'll keep his face uncovered—their first night out together in public since the forgiving judicial ruling on Jellal's crimes.

She looks at herself in the mirror wall, turning back and forth to see how the dress fit her in movement.

Erza isn't sure about this sleeveless pastel-purple one either—she wants something simple but elegant, and this one makes it look like she wants to pop out of the scene more than blend in with the background. She puts her hands on her hips to test the look in her new standing position.

Admittedly though, she _does_ enjoy how this color allows her hair to appear more vibrant, knowing how much a certain someone liked her scarlet so much.

Having her hair down, after all, was his only request of her this evening.

She hums with slight approval before rotating towards him, giving him a full frontal view.

"What about this one?" she asks him.

Leaning into the right armrest of his chair, he looks blankly mesmerized, quiet and without a word. His chin rests lightly on the back of his hand and he looks a little too deep in thought to be thinking about dresses.

"Jellal?" she asks again.

She's worried that he's grown tired of seeing outfit after outfit.

"What about…white?" he finally murmurs. "I've always imagined you in white."

His eyes move away from her clothing, steadily climbing up to meet her again, and when he finally makes contact—seeing the light flush on her cheeks—he suddenly realizes what _actually_ might have been said. His posture stiffens and he starts to get up from his chair, both hands splayed in front of him innocently.

"I mean—not that I want to—" but he stops his tongue.

Because that's not quite right.

"I mean, I want to—" but he stops his tongue again.

Wait, but are they even _ready_?

Erza can read him very well, and she can't help her shaky-nervous but excitedly widening grin. She decides to help his situation out.

"Um…" she suggests, in a rushed breath. "How about the next time we're here, I try on a white dress?"

He holds his breath for just another second, before releasing it with a soft smile.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Next time."

* * *

thank you for reading and of course, reviews much appreciated. i lie forever in the debt of your support of me,

 **thir13enth**


	7. crack, fizzle, pop

**notes:** a little warm-up drabble since i haven't written in . and of course it features something very timely for the fourth of july (which i am so disappointed in myself for doing. sigh.)

* * *

 **crack, fizzle, pop**  
 _like his heart when she stands near_

* * *

One year ago, he would have never imagined being able to stand right next to Erza—so close he could smell the shampoo from her scarlet hair and see the creases behind her smiling eyes—and yet here he is on this hot summer night—after a long day exploring the fairgrounds, after waiting hours for the scariest rollercoaster, after licking melted popsicles off their fingers—standing right next to Erza, so close he could see a strand of her hair that has slipped out from her bun and the powdered sugar from a previous funnel cake still resting just above her upper lip.

He tucks a soft smile under the collar of his jacket and tears his gaze away from her to focus back on the upcoming fireworks show.

Fate was funny, wasn't it? He thought moving to the other side of the country meant that he would never see her again.

And he knew it was coming too—saying his final and tense goodbyes to his father before following after his mother to wherever she believed was far enough—but he didn't expect a broken plate, slippery with dish soap, to cause half (and a little more) of the house to be packed into old boxes from the garage and stuffed into a car headed way west _before_ he was able to tell her how he felt about her.

But he supposes he's not the only one with a whimsical family. And he supposes that the city of Magnolia seems attractive to anyone that needs fresh start.

He doesn't want a new beginning though. Not with Erza—they shared so many memories, conversations, and embraces…

He does not want a new city, new friends, new homes, new schools, new everything to take the place of what they already have.

Well, he thinks, as he shifts the weight from his right to his left foot, this is why he invited her to come to the carnival with him in the first place—because he wants to pick up right from before he left.

And so now, sky pitch black and everyone holding their breath waiting for the first crack fizzle pop of the fireworks show tonight, it's just Erza and him.

Just Erza and him.

Erza and _him_.

"Jellal!" she gasps when the explosions sound out. He turns his head to look where she's looking and he watches what she's watching—scatters of lights littering the sky, ribbons of gold and ruby and emerald and silver and topaz spilling from cracks in the heavens, the still water under the bride they're leaning on reflecting the colors off its ebony surface.

If he ignores the city lights on the horizon, he can't tell what is sky and what is water, what is up and what is down—and it's easy to confuse the two because he's completely focused on _her_.

Eight hours and twenty-six minutes since he arrived at her new address that morning, eight hours and twenty-three minutes since he asked her to spend the day with him, eight hours and twenty-two minutes since she said yes and hopped into his car in lieu of unpacking the boxes in her room, and he's surprised that he hasn't been able to get the words off his chest any sooner.

The final firework shoots up to the stars, reaching higher and higher in altitude, increasingly higher and higher in pitch as it soars upwards, a small dot in the black night canvas of the sky, higher and higher until it—

"I love you," he says under his breath, in one breath.

—bursts into the sky, colors raining down from the heavens. The rumble of the fireworks' aftermath echo between the gray clouds, the sound tossing back and forth until the night turns quiet again.

 _Everything_ is quiet.

"What?" she asks, facing him. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing," he replies. "Nothing at all."

She smiles gently, before she turns back to the empty sky, wispy with smoke.

"Well," she says—not under her breath, in more than one breath—"I love you, too."

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	8. merry marry Mary

**tumblr request:** 88 | "Don't panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married." for **alittleklarolineobsession**

* * *

"Don't panic, but I think we might have accidentally gotten married," is not necessarily the first thing Jellal wants to hear so bright and early in the morning before any cup of coffee, but he supposes this isn't the worst news he could receive to start off the day—especially if it's coming from his girlfriend, who's suddenly sat up from the bed, looking a tad panicked herself.

He blinks several times to get the eye gunk out of his vision before he swipes his face with back of his hand. "Hmm…what?" he asks.

He's not sure if he heard that all correctly, but when she repeats the same thing, he stares up at her down from the pillow and blinks slowly again before a smile creeps over his lips. He reaches for her wrist and hugs her hand—cold from being out of the sheets—against his chest, pressing a kiss onto her forearm.

"Well that was the whole plan anyway," he sleepily murmurs against her skin. "It was just a question of when."

"Wh-what?" she replies to him, completely bewildered. She pulls her arm back to herself, and he whines when she does this, outstretching his hand to her thigh closest to him and attempting to pull it close to him in replacement. "You didn't tell me about any of this!"

He's too fatigued from the early morning start to pull her toward him so instead he snuggles up close to her instead, running his lips over her smooth skin.

"Does this surprise you?" he asks her. "We've been dating for over three years—I think it's about time to consider bigger things."

"A cat?"

Jellal's eye flicker back open. He feels his eyebrows crossing, and that's when he knows he's severely confused about what's going on. He groans and then lifts his head up to look at his partner's face. She's looking back down at him incredulously, like she isn't getting what he's saying.

He doesn't blame her.

"What?" he asks.

She narrows her eyes. "Don't tell me _you_ actually went ahead and adopted her."

Jellal thinks, blinks, and then his mind clinks when all the pieces of the context puzzle come together—  
yes, yes, the cutest black and white cat he'd ever seen on the adoption list;  
yes, yes, Erza did not want to add yet another pet to their home even after he had begged her;  
yes, yes, he went ahead and filled out all the paperwork and was waiting for an email confirmation of the whole ordeal;  
yes, yes, he CCed Erza and _that's_ probably why his girlfriend is holding the phone looked surprised, not because of what he _thought_ he heard;  
yes, yes, the cat's name is _Mary_ which sounds awkwardly close to another word—

"Oh…" he says, with a grin. "Oh yeah, Mary—yes, I adopted her. You know I can't resist."

She furrows her eyebrows. "What did you think I was talking about?"

He almost chokes on his own spit. "Oh, no, nothing."

Erza rolls her eyes and sets aside her phone on the bedside table before she brings herself back down to the mattress, sighing deeply. She pulls his head close and hugs him against her chest, fingering the hair behind his ears.

"Of course," she replies, with yet another sigh. "You never surprise me."

Jellal feels his smile grow wider and thinks for a moment that maybe he _does_ have a question that _will_ do just that but he thinks maybe they could cuddle for just a little longer instead.

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	9. make a move

**tumblr request:** 34 | "If you keep looking at me like that we won't make it to a bed." for **erzacakescarlet2001**

* * *

When they dance together across the ballroom floor, their moves are slow, languid, sensual—and in every way like making love, except fully dressed in suits and heels.

Their hands clasped together, his free hand at her waist, and her free hand at his shoulder, they step back and forth into each other's space—like a dare, like a tease, like a playful fight where they inch closer and closer like a test to see how much the other could take without taking the other down onto the hard cold floor and smothering them in kisses and wandering hands.

He can hear her every breath as she follows his lead. She's graceful and she's practiced and she's bettered since the last time he took her on the dance floor. He supposes that she was serious about taking those ballroom classes after all—and he guesses that this is why she wanted to go ballroom dancing for their first night out when he came back from his year abroad rather than spend the evening more comfortably dressed and cuddling on her living room couch.

"You've improved," he tells her.

She grins. "You haven't even seen my best move," she replies.

"Oh, I've seen plenty already," he says softly, and he doesn't try at all to disguise the fact that his eyes are drawn to the part of her plump lips, the strands of her scarlet hair falling past her bare shoulders, the cleavage of her chest dropping low into her sleeveless dress.

The music falls to a steady thrum and he snakes his hand down to join his other hand, placing it around her waist. He pretends that to ignore the fact that he can literally feel the curve of her hips up her torso and that he can feel her warm and firm abdomen just under his palms. He gently squeezes his fingers together to keep his hands tight around her, and when he feels her hands reciprocate, bringing the base of his neck down and closer to her, a fire is evoked deep within his gut.

The heat is unbearable and he feels it rising up his spine. His shirt and tie feel uncomfortable and the air feels hot and sticky. He parts his lips and takes a deep breath, feeling the rush of air flow through his lungs before he parses his exhale through his nose, attempting to calm himself down.

But god, she's beautiful and alluring and everything he's ever wanted and needed and she's looking at him like she thinks the exact same of him and finally, he can't resist and he stoops down to whisper in her ear:

"I absolutely cannot wait to take you to bed tonight," he murmurs.

She smiles against the crook of his neck and her hands, resting on the tops of his shoulders, massages her collarbones. She looks up at him through heavy lashes. "If you keep looking at me like that we won't _make_ it to a bed," she warns him, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

A soft purr rumbles through his chest at the thought of taking her right then and there, but he opts to just kiss her hard and sound on the lips instead—enough to take her breath away.

Then he asks, with mischievous eyes and with his hands sliding low low _low—_

"Is that a challenge?"

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	10. win-win

**notes:** if you're questioning why you're seeing so much fluff from me, I'm trying to figure it out as well.

* * *

 **win-win**  
 _She falls asleep before she falls into bed, so he helps her the rest of the way._

* * *

A valiant effort on her part, but Jellal _insists_ that Erza not to stay awake waiting for him to come home—except he finds difficulty convincing her through text messages because he's trying hard to stay on task at his work computer for the system launch tomorrow and he can't text her at the same time while trying to focus on the code on his screen.

 _Nope! Still awake~_

When he sees the message light up his phone, he resists the urge to pick it up and reply right away, scolding her in some way to go to sleep or to not worry about him or even threaten that if she keeps on texting him he's going to not end up coming home at all, but he decides to sift through just one more block of code before finally texting back:

 _You must be tired. Get to bed, already._

He puts aside his phone and has just rested his fingers back over the keyboard when his phone vibrates again. His eyes flicker over to read the message.

 _Not until you get back_

He smiles and doesn't resist this time.

 _No, go put your pjs on. I swear I'll be back before you even get into bed._

He doesn't put down the phone until he sees her next message, which she returns in barely a second.

 _I swear I'm not tired at all. I am *determined*_

He texts right back. _Haha, okay._

And then he puts his phone down and gets right to fulfilling his promise of getting back home as soon as possible. He hopes she doesn't text him back and goes right to sleep, but there's also a small corner of his heart that also wishes that she _would_ stay up until he's home so that he could be greeted with her warm lips and cheery smile—all covering up the fact that she has been up for hours longer than she should have been for her early rise tomorrow morning—but ah, it is much much better for her to get her sleep so that she could function properly the next day!

Whatever. It's all a win-win situation when at the end of the day, he would be coming home to Erza.

Once more than 10 minutes pass since her last text, he checks his phone just to make sure that he hadn't missed a message, and upon confirming that she hadn't replied to his message, he knows to expect her passed out on the couch. The image of her adorable self sprawled over the sofa—with all the living room lights on and her phone dropped somewhere on the floor and her hair in a messy bun that is unfurling itself by the minute—is more than enough encouragement for him to finish his coding as quickly as possible and get right home.

And so he gets right home as soon as he can, and he isn't surprised when he finds her exactly as he expected to find her. He can't help the smile that stretches over his mouth, and he slips off his shoes before padding toward her sleeping figure, placing his briefcase down before scooping her up every so gently into his arms.

"Not tired at all, huh, Erza?" he murmurs softly, so as to not wake her.

She maybe mumbles a reply in her sleep and she maybe furrows her eyebrows, but she doesn't stir awake, and he wants to keep it this way. He steadily carries her through the hallway, making sure that her feet don't bump against the walls as he turns the corner and being ever so patient with the stubborn doorknob with his foot until the bedroom door opens wide.

He lowers her into the mattress, before he tucks her in under the blankets and fixes the pillow under her head so that she is perfectly in place for a comfortable sleep. When he's satisfied that he's set her up for the most comfortable sleep she's ever had, he stoops down—holding down the end of his tie close to his chest so that its edge doesn't slap her nose—and presses a kiss on her forehead before he gets ready to join her in bed.

This, he realizes, as he settles into the sheets and pulls her into a sleepy embrace, would happen regardless.

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	11. andante

**notes:** seems that i forgot to post this up from tumblr. this is actually from back in may.

* * *

 **andante**  
 _She should have asked him go slower._

* * *

She regrets rushing.

He only comes once in a blue moon—when the heavenly bodies in the night sky align, the seven sister stars forming a grand chariot as if delivering the fortune and chance of bringing him from the war grounds back to her—so when he steps through the front door there is no time for words except for the ones unspoken between their lips.

Close, close, closer she breathes him into her lungs, brings him into her arms. They fall, fall, have fallen into bed, tongue tasting skin, hands tracing new scars. Questions turn to steamy exhales, answers turn into lurid moans—melodies coordinated with the rhythm of their bodies.

I've missed you. Come here. What happened? It's nothing. Why? Why not? I can't believe this. I'm so glad you're here. It's been so long. I know. Please. Don't stop. More. I want you. Oh my god. Yes. I love you. I love you. Hold on. Stay. Stay with me longer. I can't. I know. I'm sorry.

One second he's here in her arms. Then, in the next, he's out of her bed, and the next, he's at the door, and the next, he's miles away—it's all the same distance because he's not here in her arms.

He's gone again. And again, she feels, hears, sees the same things with his leaving. She lies in her bed, sheets growing colder. Her heart slows to a steady beat, her pulse growing faint in her throat. The rising sun slips through her open window, black sky growing blue.

She should have asked him to go slower—to breathe conversations while they were kissing, to trip and fall in love again and again before crashing into bed, to waste time at her buttons instead of ripping them apart with impatient hands, to press love into her like forever through his lips.

They could pretend the seconds were hours and the night was a year and that time would stop for the both of them for as long as they held each other as tightly as they would hold back the second hand of that clock counting down their time together.

* * *

 **notes** : did i try too hard to incorporate jellal's canonverse magic into this au-verse? probably lol. you can say it.

 **thir13enth**


	12. heated kisses

**notes:** yep more tumblr repost-ings

this was from a "types of kisses" request meme

* * *

 **heated kisses**  
 _with gasps in between, hands tugging at clothes and exploring skin, bodies pressed close. giving in_

* * *

Six months, twenty-four days, three hours, and five seconds collapses into just an instant when their lips touch.

"I've missed you so _so_ much," Jellal tells her between breaths.

Erza would debate that she missed him more but she doesn't want to interrupt their kiss with a petty argument about who missed who more when the answer is obvious—she missed him more.

She instead sinks further to their passion, grasping the fabric of his shirt and pulling his body close as if she's trying to cancel out the world-and-a-half distance that they've been separated by for what she only now realizes was too long.

He gasps for air, breathing in quickly and parting their lips for just a moment before tilting his head the other direction and bringing her in again. He twirls his finger around a strand of her hair that's slipped out of her ponytail in their mess of a reunion, following her scarlet tresses down until his hand meets his other hand at the small of her back.

The warmth of his hands seep through the fabric of her shirt and she craves more of his heat. Her hands fall to the hem of his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles she made while tugging at his clothing and she—almost daring—runs the tips of her fingers just at the edge of his jeans.

He bites her lip without warning and reflexively, she dips her touch below this line, a fingernail teasing between boxers and skin, and he growls approvingly at the corner of her mouth before Lucy—the good friend that she is—ahems and reminds the two of them that they're still at arrivals in the airport.

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	13. truth

**notes:** requested by **alexsuiss** on tumblr for prompt: take a soothing bubble bath together

* * *

 **truth  
** _She can always tell when he lies._

* * *

Her hair tickles more than the tiny bubbles that float on the surface of their bath, and it takes all the effort he can muster to note curl into a ball — a fit of his own chuckles as another stray stand drifts over his skin.

He blows on it instead, watching the scarlet ribbon loop and fold over itself in the ripple his breath makes. The patterns of its movements look a little like chaos, yet altogether too perfect.

"You're awfully quiet," she suddenly says, turning her body over between his tights. She rests her hands on his chest, pushes herself up a bit above the water. He watches long rivulets trail slowly down the slopes of her chest before he lifts his eyes up to her teasing smile and bright eyes. "What's got you thinking so hard?" she demands.

His eyes don't waver from hers. "Just rehearsing tomorrow's lecture to myself," he replies.

She rolls her eyes, unbelieving. "You're teaching _freshmen_ tomorrow," she reminds him, a little more than gently. " _Introductory_ physics. You can do that in your dreams." She lowers her eyes at him. "You know I know when you're lying."

He sighs lightly. There's no point in doing so when she knows he's fibbing before he even says a word.

"Your hair," he revises, then. He can't help but raise his hand to tuck a wet strand behind her right ear. "It's beautiful, you know?"

"As if you haven't told me a million times," she says with an amused huff.

"It's true," he tells her unabashedly.

She looks off to the side, as if embarrassed, and then flips herself back around, lying against him once more and settling back into the warm bubbly water.

"You're just saying that," she insists, resting her head onto his chest. She makes herself comfortable between his legs, touching her thighs against his.

He smiles down at her, leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head.

"Well you would know if I were lying, wouldn't you?" he murmurs.

* * *

 **thir13enth**


	14. from dawn to dusk

**notes:** jerza first, disappointment later.

* * *

 **from dawn to dusk**  
 _time only matters when i'm with you_

* * *

For Erza, the dawn never starts her day.

She takes her coffee in the morning – sweet with sugar and light with milk – and she goes to work, contributes to her team meetings, sends her emails, designs her clothes, does what she loves – goes through an entire eight hours of work, but this is not a day in her life as she knows it.

She comes back to her home — small for a future family but cozy for a couple — and she settles for the night, changes into more comfortable clothes, starts making rice, empties the remainder of this morning's coffee into her mug, picks a book from the shelves, lounges on the couch — operates as anyone would after a long day of work, but this is still not a day in her life as she knows it.

After all, for Erza, the day begins when he is home.

He greets her first, always. His voice tickles her ear before his lips tickle her neck, and then as she slips an old envelope as a makeshift bookmark into her reading, he slips into the kitchen to turn off the slow cooker he had set in the morning. She rises from the couch, echoes his steps to the kitchen, and reaches above her head to grab a couple plates from the cabinet.

She stands up on her tiptoes to get the top two dishes on the neatly stacked tower, and he takes the opportunity to gently his arms around her and kiss the back of her neck.

"What," she giggles, shrugging him off teasingly. "Do you want me to drop these plates?"

"You're doing just fine," he murmurs, lips still hovering over her skin.

She rolls her eyes to herself, setting them down and shifting over to open the cover of the rice cooker. She takes a moment to observe the puff of steam that emerges from the well-done rice before she cuts into it with the rice paddle. She serves them both plenty.

"How did your curry experiment go?" she asks, looking behind her at the slow cooker.

"It looks okay," he replies.

She takes the two plates and swivels around to the counter on the other side. He keeps his arms around her, and together they waddle to the slow cooker. She pops open the cover and the smell of warm spices and tender meat bubbles from the pot.

"You don't need to keep my expectations down," she chides him as she ladles the curry onto their plates. "I know your cooking is going to be exceptional, no matter what."

"Well then, add a bit more onto your plate, why don't you?" he replies in a snap. "Aren't you eating for two?"

She bites her lip, a small blush threatening to appear on her cheeks. "I knew I should have saved telling you for later. Now, all I'm going to get is just you telling me to eat more for an additional twelve weeks more than I needed."

"I'm sure I would have found out anyway," he says, and she knows he's right.

She's never been able to keep a secret from him and her face was altogether too expressive to keep anything hidden.

So she scoops an extra portion of stew onto her plate, but not before adding an additional one-and-a-half onto his, as well.

"You eat faster than me," she explains to him, when she hears his questioning silence. "And you need to store up some energy so that you can start fetching my every craving."

She feels him smile against her neck. "Of course," he says.

Dinner carries on. He tells her about how the attendings are just dreadful and about a frustrating patient case. She tells him about impending deadlines she's somewhat ignoring and about her gossipy passive-aggressive co-workers. They clear their thoughts of their workdays as they clear the table and clean the dishes, and they shower off the headaches and muscle aches with hot water and lavender soap.

They crawl into bed together and she lets him kiss her stomach, lets him curl his fingers around the ends of her hair, lets him spoon her into his body for the rest of the night, lets him occupy every single second of her time and every single space of her mind before she falls asleep.

He's gone by the time the sunlight kisses the edge of her white bedsheets but his musk still lingers over the pillowcase and blankets. He's gone by the time the warmth from his sleep escapes his side of the bed, but she wakes up to coffee he's kept on hot for her and to an "I love you!" note freshly scrawled on the small dry erase board on the refrigerator that keeps her heart equally warm.

His residency at Magnolia General Hospital calls him early and holds him late. Maybe it's not fair for now, but just as the sun rises, she knows the sun must also set, and she waits again until the stars shine bright in the sky and the clouds disappear into gray.

And just as she's finished another chapter of her reading, the door clicks open and the soft breeze that follows rustles the ends of her scarlet strands. Her brown eyes lift to meet his hazel eyes, and a widening smile graces her lips when she sees the same grin stretched over his face.

"I'm home," he tells her, with a kiss to her temple — and so begins another day in their forever.

* * *

 **thir13enth**


End file.
